Moriarty the teenage murderer
by sassybenny
Summary: 15 year old Moriarty murderers a fellow student, which leads to the famous consulting criminal investigating /set in modern day
1. Chapter 1

**Longer chapter coming soon and more on Moriarty! No spoilers for series 3. I own nothing.**

Sherlock had just got back from solving his most recent case, and he was already bored. He craved something interesting, something new and something refreshing. It was driving him insane, what had London's criminals been doing, and why weren't they killing. Over the past two weeks there had been nothing but small theft crimes and a couple of drunken assault cases. It had been too long since Sherlock had let his mind devour a good homicide, and even longer since he was lucky enough to hunt for a serial killer- but nothing. John was fed up too, without a case Sherlock had been nothing but grumpy and rather unpleasant. He knew it had been too long, and spent hours searching through newspapers and online forums looking for something that might be of interest. Sooner or later, Sherlock thought, someone's going to crack.

However, little did he known that twenty minutes from Baker Street, the crime of the century was taking place. A crime which would solve his craving for bloodshed and lead him to James Moriarty- the teenage psychopath who, like Sherlock, also craved something stronger than tea, murder. And it wouldn't be long until the world's only consulting, high-functioning sociopath, detective, meets the 15 year old psychopath with a passion for power.


	2. Chapter 2

James Moriarty was 15, he had short black hair and was reasonably short and slightly underweight for his age. He went to a private, all boys, boarding school and he hated every second of every day which he spent there. Everyone was so boring, their minds so dull and plain, in comparison to his, always racing with ideas and theories, of which he could barely keep up with.

All the boys had their groups, the popular ones, the nerdy ones, the quirky ones, even the outcasts had their own friendship group, and then there was him. He didn't have any friends, and he didn't think he needed them. What could he possibly do with a friend, he would always be smarter and they would always be slower. Besides, he rather enjoyed his own company, lost in his head, imaging and picturing things which no 15 year old boy should be imaging.

He didn't mind the lessons either, despite the stupidity of his teaches. It meant that he was safe from harm from any other students, such as Carl Powers, who was unfortunately one of the four boys he had the pleasure of room sharing with. He hated that boy, who would wait for him after lessons with his crew of 'lads' and torment him down the corridor to his next lesson, or find a secret spot around the school's grounds where they could punch him, spit on him, and do whatever they liked to him, simply because they were bored and James was an easy target- taking into account his shortness and lack of friends to protect him and back him up.

It always surprised him how his parents continued to pay for him to go to a school where the teachers were too blind to see the obvious bulling going on right underneath their noses. Pathetic, he was surrounded by idiots and it tore at him every day. He didn't sleep, he planned. He kept a detailed notebook where he would write down different scenarios in which he would torture and kill his fellow students and teachers, and it made him feel better, knowing he had this power over them. He had the power to end a life, and that fascinated him more than any gcse level chemistry test. He guarded it with his life.

His parents didn't think anything of it, as far as they were concerned James was completely normal teenage boy. When he came home from boarding school they were either both never around, and at their high pay, long hour jobs, or he would be upstairs in his room, alone- just the way he liked it.

His parents never received complaints and warnings about James' behaviour simply because he kept himself to himself and never made a fuss. If the teachers started poking their noses into his business he was afraid of what they would find out.

He had to be secretive, he knew that he had to protect his notebook with his life. Sharing a room with four other boys was hard enough, he couldn't afford to let one of them steal it- the consequences would be disastrous. Therefore, he didn't sleep. Sleeping could mean stealing. The lack of sleep never seemed to get to him, he would find a quiet spot at lunch and try to nod off, he had recently discovered a small clearing in the woods behind the main building, and he had been spending a lot more time there as the school term proceeded. Some nights he would slip out and sleep there, in his own private den, away from Powers and the rest of the world.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock woke up fairly grumpy, the lack of cases was getting to him. Sluggishly getting up from his bed, he stumbled into the kitchen and turned the kettle on, making himself a cup of tea. That's what he needed- tea, a lovely hot, steaming cup of tea. Perfect, glorious tea. That was when John walked in, already dressed and fully woken up, like he'd been awake for hours.

'Sherlock if you want to feel better, I suggest coffee- not tea'

'John, id rather not. If I want to feel energised id much rather have an apple' Sherlock said, as he carefully picked up an apple from the fruit bowl and happily smiled at John.

Looking confused John replied. 'An apple? Right ok, yep, just, fine'

'What John, do you mean to tell me that you aren't aware of the fact that apples contain more caffeine than a cup of coffee?' Sherlock smugly replied, biting down on the apple only to spit out the chunky bite of the soft, fluffy fruit, making John silently laugh as he witnesses his friend repel the nasty fruit with a look at disgust on his face.

'Err, what is this' Sherlock bitterly shouted

'I do believe that's a highly caffeinated apple, Sherlock' John replied, with an essence of humour in his tone.

'Oh haha very funny' Sherlock sarcastically responded 'But that was hardly an apple, it barely had any crunch at all!'

Just as Sherlock replied, there was a knock at the door.

'Lestrade' John and Sherlock stated at the same time

'Finally, a case. I do hope it's a homicide John, I don't think I can take another jewellery theft- not after the last two.'

Lestrade sat down on the coach, accepting the cup of coffee with John handed him. Once they were all settled, Lestrade spoke.

'Carl Powers, a 16 year old teenager, was killed, goes to that private boarding school about half an hour from here. He was found early this morning by one of his roommates. Apparently it was a shock, kid was a much loved, popular student.'

'How' Sherlock inquisitively said.

'Quite messy actually, gunshot to the head at close range, with the addition of a couple of stab wounds, after the shot.'

'Hmm, interesting. I'll take it'

'Take it? Sherlock this is a sensitive case, you will need to work with us on this. Promise me'

'Yes Lestrade now of you go, I'll be there as soon as possible. Don't want to be seen getting into a police car, me and John will be there in a taxi'

And with that, Lestrade left, leaving Sherlock and John finishing their drinks and getting ready to leave. Sherlock pulled on his famous long coat and blue scarf, and with that, they were out of the front door of 221b.


End file.
